Hurt/comfort With Spencer Reid Is What Keeps Me Going - Blog Posts

I loved this so much I'm going insane omg- you wrote this prompt so well and I wasn't sure what to expect but I loved it! Thank you sm!!

howdy!! I luv ur writing and congrats sm on the 1000 followers milestone :)

I'd like to request a spencer reid/reader fic with 30 from the general dialogue prompt! Thx!

IRON WALL [CLIMACTERIC]

30. “Leave me alone.”

“Is that really what you want?”

WARNINGS: mentions of spencer’s kidnapping, elusions to spencer’s withdrawals, spencer is a tiny bit of a twat

spencer x gn!reader | hurt/comfort | 1.1k | climacteric event!!

a/n: thank you <3333 back on my angsty game fr-

main masterlist!!

“Reid?” You furrow your eyebrows at his dissociation, resisting the urge to wave your hand in front of his face as you approach him. “Spencer? Hello?”

He doesn’t turn his eyes upwards at your calls, keeping them locked on the trembling plastic lid of his take out coffee cup as he sits stationary at the round table with it cupped in his hands.

He does however give you a small hum so that you know he’s acknowledging your existence.

“Are you Okay?”

Obviously not. Spencer was probably going through the most uncomfortable day of his life. He felt like his brain was physically trying to escape from his skull and his stomach was clawing its way up his esophagus.

“I’m fine.” Spencer knew that he didn’t sound at all convincing, but he didn’t really have the mind to care at the moment. He was trying to focus on not ripping out his own eyeballs so that he could massage away his pounding headache from the inside out.

“You’re shaking,”

“I didn’t notice.” His snark isn’t something you’re used to, and it’s so out of character that you have to physically take a few seconds to check that this was indeed Spencer in front of you and not some doppelganger that had taken his place.

Him changing after the kidnapping was to be expected, he’d been through a lot of trauma that would surely impact the way he portrayed himself, but you never though that it would be this type of change.

You expected the quietness, the dissociation, even a level of defensiveness. But outright abrasiveness was something you weren’t prepared for.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You try to approach the topic carefully, your voice softened tenfold as you take a seat on the edge of the table next to him, but it seems that it wasn’t careful enough.

“No.”

“Spence-”

“Just leave me alone.” Spencer finally turns up to look at you, but instead of those round and bright eyes that you’d grown used to over the last few years, you’re greeted with nothing but blank slates that are furrowed under his eyebrows, a metaphorical iron wall spreading across the expanse of his scleras to block you from reading his emotions.

The one thing you can read from his expression is his impatience with you, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t sting a little.

“Is that really what you want Spencer?” Your shoulders drop a little, a small sigh leaving your mouth as you rub your hands over your arms. “You won’t feel better by bottling everything up, you know that…”

“I won’t feel better by telling anyone either.” Spencer turns his gaze away from you again so that he doesn’t have to look at the pitiful expression on your face. He didn’t need your pity, it wasn’t like it was going to do anything.

“You don’t know that…”

“I do know that.” Spencer scratches the inside of his right elbow during his retort, a self-soothing method that you’d noticed had developed after his kidnapping. “This isn’t something you can fix with some ‘words of affirmation’.”

“That’s not what I’m saying Spencer,” You sigh softly as his continued attempts at shutting down your advances, and you wonder whether you should just give up and let him deal with whatever he’s going through by himself.

But he doesn’t look okay, and you’re not sure that he can work through whatever it is by himself.

“I just want to help you…”

The subtle change in Spencer’s gaze tells you that the dejection in your tone might’ve cracked those iron walls a little bit, and he closes his eyes momentarily to take a deep breath in through his nose. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, but you really can’t help me,”

“Spencer please,” You sigh softly. “Even if it’s just getting everything off your chest,”

He bites the inside of his cheek, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt as he seemingly deliberates whether to let you in on what he’s feeling, and the second you hear that sigh of exasperation leave his throat you know you’ve managed to worm your way in.

“I’m having headaches, I can’t sleep, I constantly feel like I’m going to throw up and I can’t even drink my coffee without spilling it all over myself because my hands just won’t stay steady no matter how much I try to keep them stable-”

Spencer spills his issues to you in one long, unbroken sentence, and you’re half-surprised he even had enough breath to make it through the whole thing.

And the worst part is you know that there are things that he’s left out. But it’s a start at least.

You let out a small exhale as you absorb his words for a moment. “Do you want comfort or solutions Spencer?”

Spencer exhales heavily, the tension in his shoulders visibly relaxing as he considers your question. After a moment of contemplation, he looks up at you with a small, weary smile. "Comfort, please."

“I can do that,” You walk over to where he’s sitting to stand behind him with your hands resting gently on his shoulders, not wanting to push his physical boundaries too much or else force him back into his shell.

As you offer your comforting presence, you feel Spencer's shoulders slump as he leans into your touch, as if the weight of the world has been momentarily lifted off of him. His breathing slows down, and you can sense a slight ease in his demeanour.

You stay with him for a while, not saying anything, letting the room fall into a comfortable silence only broken by the sound of your hands rubbing against the fabric of his shirt against his shoulders. Eventually, he straightens up a bit, turning to look at you with a hint of gratitude in his eyes.

“Thank you…” His voice is quiet, barely a whisper, but tinged with a warmth of appreciation.

You smile back at him, relieved to see some of the tension in his face ease away. It might not solve all of his problems, but sometimes, just knowing that someone cares can make all the difference.

"Anytime, Spence," you give his shoulders a gentle squeeze. "We're in this together, okay?"

“Yeah…”

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